


A Mojave Wastelander In The World Of Remnant

by MesaMan



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas, RWBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MesaMan/pseuds/MesaMan
Summary: The Battle for Hoover Dam is concluded. House's New Vegas stands strong, the NCR sits stalled, and the Legion lies shattered. The story of the Mojave Courier had come to an end. But where one story ends, another begins.
Kudos: 1





	1. The End Is Only The Beginning

House always did say that the wastes held nothing of note. That there was naught but a sand blown pit that sucked bright and promising individuals down its ravenous gullet leaving nothing but rubble and ash.

Six wouldn’t say he was wrong on most of those accounts. He would be remiss to claim such seeing as he had personally caused such damage. 

Though seeing the stretched out nature before him from this peak upon the mountaintop, he would posit that House’s isolation had made him lose his appreciation for nature and the savage beauty of the wild.

Before his sight stretched a forest as far as the horizon wild, green, and healthy. The wind brought the smell of sycamore and oak filling his nose as he breathed deeply. The trees swayed in the wind and birds flew distantly in the sky.

Beautiful.

The wind turned and he caught the scent, breaking Six out of his reverie. He turned his back upon the glory of nature, trudging down the path to the burning city below.

======================================================================== 

His escorts followed his steps down the mountain like loyal mechanical hounds. The securitrons that House provided were an extraordinary army. Solidly built, quick, compact, and most importantly, lethal. And underneath Six’s guidance, that simply lethality was turned to brutality. They’d chased the Legion across nearly 800 miles of wastes, slaughtering any that had lagged behind. With Caesar lobotomized, Vulpes beheaded, and Lanius bisected, there was no force of personality capable of keeping the disparate Centuria from tearing at each others throats.

Caesar had often said that his enslavement of the natives was a blessing. That bringing society and civilization to such technologically devolved and culturally backwards people was a sort of enlightenment for them. He prided his legion on being able to take these groups and completely eradicate the behavior from them, leaving only discipline and virtue.

But once the threat of the lash and fear of crucifixion were gone, they fell to their old tribal ways all too easily, descending into the worst sort of raiding and banditry. Relearning what atrocities desperation could push a person to commit.

And desperate they were.

Six had fought on the front lines, repelling the Legions assault on the Hoover Dam. Every task given to him by House he had gone above and beyond with. House offered him a generous retirement fund, where he could sit back and watch the Legion tear itself apart from the comfort of the Lucky 38’s revolving cocktail lounge. 

Six instead demanded that he be able to put those roman cosplaying fascists into the dirt. That he have the right to burn their civilization to the ground like the affront to god that it was. 800 miles, and tens of thousands of slavers, and here he was in the city of dogs.

Denver, the edge of the Legions territory.

Denver, the last stronghold of the Legion.

Denver, the final grave of the Legion.

========================================================================

He walked down the main boulevard to the cities center. The winds brought the scents and sounds of the razing to him. It smelt of burnt flesh and ash, so powerful that they could even penetrate the filter of his helmet. On every intersection in the city there was a bonfire. Styled in the classic fashion of burning tires and torched corpses.

Screams could be heard in the distance, agony filled wails that would suddenly cease, leaving only the crackling of burning lumber and the settling of rubble. 

They would be the holdouts, survivors of the initial assault, flushed out by the securitrons like rats. And like rats, they were exterminated with absolute prejudice. Screams halted by laser fire, bodies turning to ash right before their eyes, fully conscious of the agony.

It was more than this slaver filth deserved, by Six’s account. He’d have preferred to have them crucified as they had done to so many innocents across the four corners. Treat them as they had treated others. 

He would stay his hand though.

There was still work to be done.

======================================================================== 

The dissolution of the Legion was a necessary act by all accounts. Mysoginistic, slaving, raping fascists that needed to be completely expunged from the land, if not from the very annals of history itself. Six had taken to this task with a zeal, scouring every single inch of Legion territory, razing every settlement he found. This one too would burn as the others.

He stopped once he reached the city center. Securitrons lined the edge of the plaza, fencing in all the captives taken with the fall of the city. Legion soldiers would normally never surrender to an enemy, their belief in the Legion and fear of Caesar pushing them to fight to the death. Without any real leadership, that zeal crumbled. They surrendered in droves to Six’s army, trapped in crumbling towns surrounded on all sides by securitrons. They were taken as prisoners, given a false sense of hope for their survival.

In the plaza they kneeled. Stripped of their armor, their clothing, and their dignity. They huddled together in the center of the plaza, at least a hundred soldiers, as if the combined mass of their bodies might give them some sort of protection. 

The securitrons lining the plaza all emitted a shrill wine. Their arms peeled back, revealing the gatling lasers, power up.

It would not.

The securitrons fired, lasers piercing into the crowd, rendering them all to ash, faster than their lungs could scream.

========================================================================

Silence.

That was all that was left in the city of dogs. The fires had died down, nothing but embers left glowing in the night. 

Six gazed out on his work, on the death that he’d sowed. The savages he’d exterminated, the evil he had purged from the soil.

He felt empty.

When the Legion had eventually realized that there was no stopping Six and his army, they decided that they would rob any sort of closure from the victory. It was decided that it was better to exterminate the people they had enslaved, rather than have them be liberated by the courier. 

Every city that he’d come across had the slaves crucified on the outskirts. 

The last bitter curse of dead men.

This campaign, cursed as it was, was finally finished.

…

He gazed at the desolation he had wrought, taking it all in one last time.

…

His heart having its fill of the silent tragedy he reached into his coat, pulling from it a strange and wondrous device.

It had a simple, black plastic grip which flowed seamlessly onto the underside of a cylinder of likewise black plastic. The back of the cylinder was capped by a copper cover, screwed in with steel bolts. Through the top of the cylinder you could see another cylinder of glass within the plastic, jutting out of the front of the plastic. Electricity coursed through the tube, ready to be used.

Flipping off the large red cap protecting the trigger, he fired the device, ready to be brought back home.

A gunshot pierced the stillness, hit him straight in the chest where it proceeded to ricochet off of the armor plating, directly into the device. It shattered the glass, causing the electricity to expand outward. As the electricity enveloped him in the blink of an eye, a single thought echoed in his skull.

“FUCK.”

And then, he was gone.


	2. A Strange Man in a Stranger Land

Teleportation had always been a bit of a crapshoot in Six’s opinion. Though that could apply to everything which came in contact with him. Teleportation however was rather cursed, even with his monumental bad luck. Ever since he had gained the ability in Big Mountain, it had worked to transport him all across the wasteland (provided he met the strange requirements for the transportalponder) in a haphazard fashion. Teleporting to and from the Big Empty was always a trip full of complications. Sometimes it would be minor issues, such as teleporting him thirty feet off the ground and shattering his leg or teleporting him into a legion hit squad (into as meaning INTO the hitsquad. He could still feel the agonized gasping of the centurion's lungs around his arms.). 

Minor issues you see.

Issues he could either inject a needle or fire a shot into to solve.

He couldn’t inject a needle at gravity. Six supposed he could try to shoot at it to make himself feel better. Mindless violence tended to feel cathartic after all. But whatever satisfaction that would bring him would only last as long as it would take to plummet to the ground almost a mile below.

Six brought the Transportalponder up to his face, hoping it would give him an out.

It was a fucking mess. 

The glass casing housing the most important pieces was completely shattered, and the inner components were a jumble of fused wires and melted plastics.

That put teleportation back to The Sink out of the question.

Wind roared in his ears as he continued to fall, ever closer to that ground. 

He needed to think of something and fast or he was gonna be a goddamn pancake on the ground. It would take days to regen-

“SQUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The shriek sounded somewhere to his right and as he whipped his head to meet it, he caught a glimpse of a truly gargantuan bird speeding towards him.

It tore him straight out of his fall, grasping him in claws the size of FUCKING CHAINSAWS.

Less than a minute and this teleport was already looking like the day he got shot.

A complete disaster.

========================================================================

The damn thing would not stop screaming. True, maybe Six should have been focusing on the fact that its beak was bigger than him and it seemed to be cruising at an easy 150 miles per hour, but the screaming was really starting to piss him off. His scar seemed to ache every time it screamed, progressively worsening it from its ever constant headache to a full on migraine.

While Six’s shoulders were being held, he could still move his arms. 

He rummaged through his ashen duster as the beast continued its piercing scream. There should be a few explosives in his co-

His hands grasped at nothing.

Where the hell was his stash? It's not as though he had anywhere to store i-

GODDAMNIT

He remembered now.

He did store it. He stored it on the securitrons that were following his every step like loyal hounds. He didn’t want the weapons weighing him down while he made the trek up the mountain to get a view of Denver. That meant no high-grade explosives, none of his more impressive ballistics, and none of the earth shaking energy weaponry.

The deadeye was out of the question as well. He had used up its charge in the initial assault on Denver and was waiting until he had returned to the Sink to recharge it.

He still had his main rifle on his back, thank god, but from his position in the things claws he couldn’t get a grip on it. So, his hands continued to grope around in his coat, hoping that he had left some of his smaller weaponry on him.

His hand could just barely touch the handle on a pistol, it being just out of reach. Perhaps if he tried to shimmy his coat?

“SQUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The thing broke out into a sudden dive which served to only further intensify his headache. The sudden change in direction shifted his coat around and caused the gun to slip into his grasp. Grasping it in a grip of iron, he brought it up to his face.

… 

The Sequoia.

Well, at least he wouldn’t need to worry about tanks anymore.

Now, the question of when to get out of this thing's grasp. He was still quite a ways up, maybe half a mile now with its downward descent. He could see a clearing of some sort, though at this distance, it would flatten his biomass like a p-

“SQUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Like a-

“SQUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

L-

“SQUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Fuck it, gravity couldn’t be worse then this overgrown crows screaming.

With his right hand, he lifted the Sequoia, aiming right at the bird's ankle, pulling the trigger.

With a single thunderclap the ankle was blown clean off of the bird’s leg, freeing six from its grip to once again plummet towards the earth.

========================================================================

To call it a landing would be giving a bit too much credit to Six. Since the bird had been in the middle of a dive, it allowed Six to distribute the force of the drop into a roll, sending him into a very tight, very fast tumble across the clearing. It could be called successful however, seeing as he was able to land his body intact instead of him being turned into a pile of torn tendons and liquified muscles. So, not a landing per se but more controlled than your run of the mill crash.

His tumbling body was stopped by a lonely rock in the center of the clearing as his spine slammed straight into it with a sickening crunch.

He crumpled to the ground and lay there for a moment, processing the pain.

Once he had briefly reflected on all the recent decisions that brought him here in a stationary heap, he picked himself off the ground and gave himself a stretch.

A few pops and he could feel his spine realigned properly.

Thank SCIENCE! for saturnite spines.

He had no sooner straightened himself when the bird came crashing down on the other side of the clearing, a mass of black feathers and ivory bones. It was screaming pain, roaring at the loss of its leg. Its massive wings, upon which Six could now see rested two talons as long as bumperswords, tore at the ground in a desperate attempt to find purchase. They tore through the grassy clearing as if it was paper, kicking up a rain of black soil.

After finally anchoring its claws in the soil to stop itself from thrashing, it whipped its head around to see the prey that had dismembered it. It set its crimson gaze directly on Six, letting forth a great screech it bagan to raise its wings in preparation of the slaughter that the beast would bring to this pest.

Six did not merely wait for the attack to come of course. He had been in far too many fights to just let the enemy set up while he stood there in dumbfounded surprise. He holstered the Sequoia, he had already wasted one too many rounds on this thing. He scrounged in his coat, getting an idea on what sort of an arsenal he had to work with. 

Not much apparently. 

He could feel a few throwing knives, a pulse grenade (real fucking helpful), a firebomb, and exactly 2 poisoned tomahawks in the throwable section of his coats pockets. So that would rule out detonating C4 in the beast's stomach. In his bladed weapons pouch he could feel a grand total of 1 weapon, that weapon being his bowie knife. So that ruled out carving the thing up with a chainsaw or ripper. In his unarmed weapons pouch he could feel nothing. So no two-stepping the thing. He had a bit of luck in the one handed firearms portion of the coat. The plasma defender was ready for use, but would be ineffective in penetrating the layers of what seemed to be thick feathers. As for rifles, the only one he had slung on his back was the Holorifle. More than enough to deal with any man or machine in an instant, though Six had the sinking suspicion that while it could definitely render the thing to ash, the beast's feathers would distribute too much of the energy to be immediately lethal. 

This was going to be an endurance fight.

He slipped the rifle from its holster and began loading in ammunition. While he had left the vast majority of his weapons behind, he never left his ammunition. Max charge microfusion cells sure weren’t as efficient as optimized ammunition nor as kind to the rifle, but they could make this more of a fight and less of a slog.

Once the beast had brought its wings up as high as it could, six readied himself for attack. If it was like any of the other flying abominations he had killed over the years it would attempt to knock him off his feet in a gale force attack followed by a mad rush to gut him while he was defenseless one the ground. He dug his heels in and brought his rifle up to bear. He’d fire a shot at the head of the beast once the gale-force hit as the beast would end up tucking its head into its chest as the wings descended, turning the head into a much larger target. 

The wings dropped and the gale force hit. Six dug his heels in further and kept his aim steady, waiting for the perfect sho-

Six buckled his knees and let the gale force blow him onto his back barely missing a potential bisection as projectiles the size of himself shot past him. As he hit the ground he craned his neck to see the damage the projectiles caused. They shot straight through the air reaching the trees at the edge of the clearing.

They bisected the trees at the clearing edge sending the upper trunks flying from the gale force and continued to bisect the trees behind it.

From his position on his back Six rolled to the right, barely missing the scythe-like beak of the beast tearing a massive gouge in the ground where Six was laying. While still on the ground he fired off a shot at the beast. A mass of glowing blue cubes burst forth from the nozzle of the rifle speeding towards the beast's eye. With his god awful luck the beast jerked its head to the side at the last moment, the shot hitting its armored beak rather than its vulnerable eye.

While the shot did miss the optimal target it was still a holographic projectile. Once the cubes collided with the beak the cubes burst, each one seeming to come apart in the blink of an eye, forming a sort of net of blue lines over the things head. After a split second the net of light constricted, burning right through the beasts feathers and into its flesh.

It screeched and thrashed in what only could be described as agony, no doubt feeling the holographic construct burrowing and burning into its flesh and tender nerve endings. Six cycled the spent cell from the ammo tube which was enough noise to break the beast out of its thrashing. It leaped at him blindly in another attempt to gore him. Scrambling to his knees Six threw himself back, his crotch missing being gored by only a few inches. With his back to the ground he lined another shot for the things head.

The shot collided with the beasts crown, the cubes bursting onto the feathers and rendering them to ash and scorching the flesh beneath. The edges of the cubes once again unfolded onto the beasts head in a net of light, burrowing into its now exposed flesh. It roared in pain yet again and lunged down to stab him with its beak

Six dodged yet again in a roll, using his masterful agility to come out on his feet and begin a sprint for the tree line, cycling the microfusion cell as he ran. He needed distance if he wanted any sort of chance against this monster. The thing was a flying sort of abomination, so Six made the safe bet that it lacked the ability to chase him on foot. Owing to his time as a Mojave courier he was able to get quite the distance from the monstrosity before he heard the flap of its wings. He dived to the right in a roll. The massive feathers missed him by inches, whizzing past him to bisect yet more unlucky trees. He exited his roll onto one knee, lined a shot to the exposed flesh on the monsters head and fired.

It leaped for him, jumping the shot entirely. He cycled through to the last cell. The beast was too large, he would not be able to dodge. It was do or die. He adjusted his aim, swinging upward before firing his last shot. The cubes exited the tube in a flurry, shooting forward. The beast opened its beak wide in an effort to swallow him whole and the cubes entered its maw. They impacted against the flesh in the beasts mouth, exploding in a flash of blue energy. 

In what felt like slow motion the beast's head disintegrated into ash from the inside out, the headless corpse crashing just an inch shy of Six’s prone form, the now free flying beak crashing some distance behind him.

Six cycled the cell out of the Holorifle, loading four optimized rounds while scanning the treeline for any additional beasts. The green treeline. 

Six stopped mid-reload and gazed around in alarm.

Where the hell was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, two chapters within a month of each other. Will try to keep up this writing fervor.

**Author's Note:**

> I completely forgot I wrote this. Lets see where it goes.


End file.
